The Scarlet Macaw
by R Vorenus
Summary: In the depth of the jungle, everyone shows their true colors. As they find their coexistence and fall in love through constant conflict, will their colors be as those of the scarlet macaw, bold and beautiful? Severus Snape is an ambitious executive climbing up the corporate rope; Hermione Granger is an anthropologist and activist trying to find herself. AHAU OOC
1. Prologue: The Amazon Rainforest

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just a beautiful new Dell, a 1 GB USB and so many dreams about these pre-existing characters. All recognizable characters belong to Rowling, and any song lyrics, mention of works, movies, drinks, or real legit copyright stuff isn't mine. Don't sue me, please. I don't have any money.

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**Prologue: The Amazon Rainforest**

_Three years ago_

She smiled at the little naked russet kids running around. Her scalp was hot, prickling, beads of sweat running down the side of her face, dripping past her chin down her long slim neck and beyond. The sun was brighter today than it was yesterday, or the day before that; it seemed to burn into her clothing, making her underwear feel like it had been lit up with some propane and a match. The white wife beater she had on was on fire, failing to refract the rays of the treacherous sun. She tried wearing shorts today, the shortest she could find among the piles of clothing on the dirt floor of Chanchue's mud-and-leaves-and-sticks abode. Nothing helped. The wind only carried the humid heat of the rainforest, the breeze that poked its nose through the branches of the large Kapok didn't dare dive down to where she sat with the four other women.

Sweat plastered with heat and the exhaustion of physical labor reminded her that this wasn't Las Vegas anymore. She wasn't taking a stroll into the desert, the arid crispiness something to look forward to every morning. The crazy bartenders, the drunken women slurring insults to the husbands prying them away from a slot machine that had chewed up $70 already. The lights, the glamour, the pretenders, the expenses. The casinos on every corner, the hotels on every lot, the cocaine in every pocket. The brightness of it all confused her for an instant. She blinked at the sun, the source of her unconscious moment. No, that wasn't the light of the Cesar Palace she was staring at. It was the gleam of the fireball above her reflected on Ginhera's forehead, where a flat large hanging metal pendant proudly announced her marriage.

"Mamã Hermione!" _Mother Hermione! _Risusa exclaimed laughing. She set down the frog she was cutting open, patted Hermione's thigh and grinned at her excitedly. The sweet, golden brown woman with long chestnut hair and cocoa dusted honey eyes grinned back at her, holding up her creation. It was the cutest, smallest garment they had ever seen. They usually dressed their little ones in small patches of jaguar skin, covering only what was necessary to go hunting without any accidents.

"É belo!" _It's beautiful! _Sonnyta gasped. "Penso que você está pronto para ter o próprio," _I think you're ready to have your own, _she joked and elbowed Hermione_._ She was delighted and astonished at what she was seeing; it was as if this foreign villager had magical powers that shrunk woman clothes to girl clothes. She laughed at herself for a moment, thinking about her superstitious shaman father's father, who would praise this beautiful woman for having such otherworldly prowess.

Hermione smiled wider and motioned to the young lady across from her with her chin. "É para seu pequeno patife, irmã." _It's for your little rascal, sister._

Haikik looked at the miniature dress in awe and set down the berries she was crushing to go hug Hermione. "É tão com talent," _You're so talented, _she whispered and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Obrigado, irmã, obrigado, amor!" _Thank you, sister, thank you, love!"_ Brightly smiling, she took it from Hermione's outstretched arms and open hands and broke into a sprint back to the cabin where she lived with her husband Lazzaro. Her two little troublemakers were in the stream trying to fish something for tonight's menu.

Ginhera helped her mother remove the bones from the frogs' legs and snapped the ribs in half, throwing them to the side where a pile was quickly stacking up. She smiled shyly at Hermione while taking another frog and slicing it through the middle delicately, removing any unnecessary parts in the middle that were not edible.

"Ay louve joo, Hermione," she tried to say in English. Hermione gasped at her and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Gin! Aprendeu como dizê-lo! Sou tão orgulhoso de você!" _Gin! You learned how to say it! I'm so proud of you!_ Hermione sprang up and gave her an enormous hug, showing her how happy she was of her accomplishment—English.

"Lazzaro quer ter um banquete! Nosso bebê tem um novo par de roupa!" _Lazzaro wants to have a feast! Our baby has a new pair of clothes! _Haikik announced with glee.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Awww, no! Não estrague-se-me esse tanto!" _Don't spoil me that much!_ she said with her eyebrows furrowed, a look of reprimand.

The ladies laughed in their loose circle of duties, preparing lunch and small-talking about the village men, the other women and the new family that came into the village from another close by. They brought only news of tragedy and great sadness, so that conversation was ended quickly. They lived the day to its last rays of sun and final waking moments. They laughed things off, not wondering too much about the tomorrow or the yesterday, but remembering the today was what they were placed in this mushy land to live for. Their families, their friends, yes, these were the ones they had to do right by every minute.

At noon, the mothers and the mothers of mothers went to look for their little ones to bring them back for what would be a delicious lunch, frog meat and stew complete with a juicy berry essence drink mixed with some aguardiente the men got in exchange for their powerful metal spear-rods.

She sat, her back to the thick bark carrying Chanchue's little boy. She tried to make him eat the frog legs, but he'd just throw them right back at her and giggle seeing her fake frustrated face. She'd huff and puff some air into her bangs so they would fly up and land over her eyes. Little Zakarias would laugh harder and clap at her show. He'd bounce on her lap and blow her wet kisses, turning coy and hiding under her chin when she'd blow some kisses back.

The men helped the women clean up, rinsing the plates in the running water of the stream. They came out brand new, the red clay immaculate. They went off into the forest with bows and arrows, the blessing of the matriarch, Mamã Richê, following them and protecting them in their journey to find dinner. It was now time for the women to wash the clothes of their families, and it was Hermione's time to pick up on a week of dirty laundry.

She picked up an ivory-colored woven basket and hauled it over her shoulder. Walking to the farthest part of stream, finding a solitary spot where the only thoughts lingering would be her own, she settled the soap and the clothing pin-holders on a rock. She took off her sandals and dipped her foot in the water, hissing softly at the coolness of it against her boiling skin. She could have had a fever for all she knew; it was so hot you couldn't tell these days. She picked through her dirty clothes and took out her underwear; the most important pieces of clothing would go first.

As she soaped up the serious black panties and rubbed them roughly against the large grey stone on the streambed, her mind wandered again.

_This isn't Las Vegas, no. It's the Amazon._

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**A/N: Well, well, what'd you think? I like it so far, hahaha. I hope you can put up with me and keep going with me in the road to the Amazon!**

**Please let me know what you think, peeps. It always helps me when I'm writing, whether to make it better or just to cut stuff off. **

**Ame-o todos! **_**Love you all!**_  
**~R Vorenus~**


	2. The Concrete Jungle

**The Concrete Jungle**

_Present day_

He wiped off the fog on the mirror in his impeccable ivory 400 sq ft bathroom. It left his forearm moist and sent a clammy tingly sensation up his muscular toned arm. It felt odd in contrast to the smoking hot atmosphere created by the deliciously boiling water of his oval marble bathtub. The remnants of a subtle cinnamon and honey bubble bath washed themselves down the drain and kept the moist air in the room smelling like sweet cleanness. He inspected one cheek, then the other, feeling circles around his Adam's apple and rubbing his jaw line. He looked around the assortment of burgundy towels (which casually matched with the plush rug before his shower and the opposite walls). Picking one up and wrapping it low around his waist, he set off in search of a razor.

He opened the first drawer under the sink: expensive shaving cream, Old Spice aftershave, Bengay muscle rub, KY lubricant, family pack of Crown Skinless Skin. His black eyebrow arched and his lips twitched into a smirk as he shuffled through the contents, all laid out in perfect order.

He opened the second drawer under the sink: Synthroid thyroid control pills, Advil liquid gels, Tylenol extra strength, Tylenol PM, Tylenol AM, Nyquil, Dayquil, Ibuprofen Max, Centrum Silver vitamins. His head slightly cocked to the side and he closed the extremely organized medicine drawer.

He opened the third drawer on the other underside of the sink: breath mints, Dentine Ice, a half-empty bottle of the best Black Label, Nicoderm CQ patches, an E-Z Quit smokeless artificial cigarette, and a pack of Malboro Flavor Note from Germany, unopened, untouched, calling for a showdown. He closed the drawer with a louder thud than he intended but didn't even flinch at the loud noise.

Finally, lazily laying in the last drawer among spare toothbrushes, spare boxers, and spare towels was his cordless Norelco 7310XL in all its polished, shiny, silver glory.

The alarm clock went off and a smooth jazz melody softly slid through the door cracks and enveloped him. He tapped a naked foot and swayed a fraction of an inch as he cleared his face of the stubble that had been growing. He rinsed his cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck throwing in a little bath gel, washing off any excess hairs. He opened the first drawer once more and reached for the aftershave, rubbing it between his large white palms and patting it on, refreshing him. He felt his pores breathing in the menthol-like freshness and got straight to brushing his teeth. Quickly, methodically, he left his perfectly aligned teeth sparkling white, as they usually were. He took a mouthful of the mintiest Listerine and swish swashed it all around his mouth, feeling the burning white-hot sensation on his gums and tongue that signaled the end of a mouthwash cycle.

He looked up at the now cleared mirror and smiled widely, checking another time to ensure his teeth were spotless, like the ivory-tiled floor he was standing on. He opened the door and the silky jazz wrapped around him, fluttering against his eyelids so they would close, tickling his spine so he'd sway from side to side. Lounging around the carpeted room, he came to a stop at his bed (which had been fixed to the last fold of the comforter and position of the pillows before going into the shower). Taking the towel off, he put on his navy Gucci boxer briefs as he tried to dry his long messy locks. His charcoal hair was still dripping onto his back, so he decided to blow dry it just in case, so it wouldn't damage his Armani suit, laid out on the bed along with his crisply pressed white shirt and forest-green silk tie.

The shoes were so perfectly shined that he could actually see the reflection of his bold eyes on them. He slipped everything on easily, coolly, almost with an appealing air to him, as if he was somehow entitled to an unknown something. His watch, sitting idly on the nightstand, waited to be picked up and placed elegantly on his left wrist. He snapped the stainless steel clutch closed and adjusted his collar, moving his tie a little to the left, a little tighter up, a little to the right, ah there in the dead center. As if he didn't already smell otherworldly, he sprayed on some French-named cologne that smelled better than wine and sex on a Friday night (with him).

Strolling along the space between the bed and the door, he picked up the briefcase and heavy leather winter coat, swaying his way to the alarm which he clicked off right at the end of the sax solo. Taking one last look to make sure there was nothing missing (except for maybe a naked female body on his bed? no, it was only still Wednesday for that), he briskly closed the door and walked through the living room, glancing briefly at the half-body mirror that hung behind the door. _Smashing, as always. _Mom would say that every time he'd walk out of the house dressed up for work. That was years ago, and those times had passed too quickly, nostalgia the only thing left. Traces of it, really.

He smiled politely to the man opening the door on the first floor (after standing in an elevator alone for 57 floors, descending as he played the invisible keys to _La Mer _and _Spring_ from "The Four Seasons" in his mind). The taxi was ready for him downstairs, this Riddle sir knew very well how to hire transportation. He nodded politely to the man driving the cab and directed him to drop him off at Madison Avenue and 34th Street. He gave him a tip (since he'd been prepaid by the contractors) and walked out in front of the impressive higher-than-the-sky glassy building with a blue tint to it, reading _BUILD_ in large bold letters.

Walking through the revolving doors, he took yet another elevator to the 34th floor, this one friendlier with Beethoven than anyone else. He stepped out into the dimly lit reception and briefly nodded and smiled at the man cleaning the windows.

"Good morning, sir," the older man smiled.

"Fine morning, too. It's perfectly too dark out for my taste, and the breeze is as crisp as ever at this time."

The man smiled and continued whistling and washing the window down with Windex.

"Good morning, I'm here to see Dr. Riddle," he politely told the redhead at the desk. She did a double-take from her computer screen and eyed him appraisingly.

"Your name?" came a sweet low voice.

"Severus Snape," he said in his most inappropriate attempt at seduction.

She bit her lip as she scanned her eyes over the names in the appointment book.

"Five-thirty AM meeting, yes?"

"That's right," he gave her a small smirk.

"You're a little early, but I'll check if he can see you now."

She shimmied out of her chair and walked away to closed doors, her tight black pencil skirt and bright pink shoes making her assets swish pleasantly in front of him. He tilted his head to the side and whistled appreciatively in his head. _Now that's a catch_.

"Mr. Snape, Dr. Riddle will have you now," she nodded and walked back to her desk without another look.

The old pale man eyed him speculatively. The middle-aged man looked suitable enough, maybe he'd be cut out for the job. Perhaps he had it in him to do what was asked of him. He looked complacent enough, he thought, maybe even a little eager to please if there was a raise involved? He tried to plan out the course of action once their conversation progressed.

Mr. Snape smiled, half-amused, half-polite.

"So, what you're telling me, sir, is that I need to travel a thousand and some miles, give or take a hundred feet here and there, so I can observe these people anywhere from six to twelve months?"

"That's precisely it."

"Sir, I—"

"Please, call me Tom."

"_Tom_, I don't understand why I'm needed there. The contractors seem to be doing their jobs efficiently in Guyana and I don't recall anything sloppy in Suriname. Well, since I last sat through a briefing, BUILD is reported to have an impeccable reputation in Europe, not to mention Africa. Pardon me for being thick, but I don't see how I'm painted into this picture."

"Severus—may I call you that?" he briefly paused waiting for a nod, and continued. "Severus, you've been recommended to me by very highly regarded individuals in my field. I've heard only praise of you and your work ethic, your procedures... your results. Frankly, I was amazed that someone had accomplished so much at such a young age, so quickly, when you started to work for Malfoy Enterprises Inc as a second year law student. You have continued to prosper your company and solidify its reputation for a decade; there is no question regarding your essentially."

He chuckled politely, "I do try, but I don't think I'm worthy of such praise."

"Oh, on the contrary, that's why I chose you."

"Once again, I'm at a loss, Tom."

"I need only the best to work for me. I already have a grant from your company to lend me your services for the time needed. I just need you to understand how important this is to me, son. I know you're going to be the best bet I have to start these new homes and the building complexes. You're frankly incredible. All I'm asking for is half a year to a full year living with the natives, looking out for the land, judging its quality, and a little persuasion wouldn't be too much to ask, either."

Severus blinked and waited for Dr. Riddle to finish his enticing speech, like the serpent in Eden, waiting to strike after the bait was hung before the foolish, weak mortals.

"You're a very charismatic man; you seem the perfect one for the job."

"So, repeating the conditions… it's simply living there for up to a year, all expenses paid, air fare and travel needs, clothes, food expenses, hotel fees… everything?"

"You make me feel underestimated. I have connections, Severus, and I'm a man of a lot of power, therefore, money," he leaned forward.

Severus looked pensive and nodded.

"Are you up to the challenge, young man?"

"I guess I could use a little adventure in my life," he said, shrugging indifferently and taking the insinuation of age more as a joke than a compliment. He attempted to seem nonchalant but he was exploding inside. Fireworks of crazy ideas were erupting within him, excitement coursing through him and curiosity swimming within him.

"Alright. Your flight is tomorrow. Get some sleep today, do whatever you have to do, I got you a day off," he smiled.

Severus nodded and smiled a little.

_Wow, who would've though? Me… The Amazon._

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**A/N: Two in one day? Whaaaat? Beast, hahaha.**

**I hope you liked this one. Feel free to bitch or rant if you don't. Or otherwise. **

**Asleep,  
~R Vorenus~**


	3. Armani Meets Jaguar Skin

**Armani Meets Jaguar Skin**

From her uncomfortable spot atop Jersua's muscular shoulders, Hermione felt herself being sucked into the sky and fried by the rays of the sun, who would never fail to rise in the East every morning. Her face was a dirty smudging of dirt, mud, hot rain and palm tree juice, caked in with salt and heat. Her tanned back was bare; her shirt having been stripped a while ago, hours perhaps, the only article of clothing on her torso was a jaguar skin strapless "shirt" one of the youngest girls had made. It was tight and served more as an almost bra, since her breasts were so large and little Anyia had such bad length perception.

"Passe-me a barbante, por favor," _Pass me the string, please,_ Hermione's fluent and smooth Portuguese had been perfected as she spent her days talking non-stop to her pseudo brothers, sisters, and close friends. Chanchue passed it to Jersua, who handed it to Hermione briefly before placing his hand on her jean-clad thigh once more supporting her on his shoulders so she wouldn't fall. "Ei, ei, olhar onde você toca, pervertido!" _Hey, hey, watch where you touch, pervert! _she laughed and lightly smacked the back of his head.

He barely felt her weight; something light propped up on his back was the description he gave her when she complained of being too heavy. He was starting to consider asking her to change her pants and wear some shorts or just her underwear, because the heat her pants were emitting was something he'd never suffered before. If it was hot for him, he thought, it must be burning for her. Her legs must be in pain by now, the heat impossible and at some point debilitating. She didn't complain about it though, just kept working on tying the palm tree branches together.

Her strong hands and arms had noticeably strengthened in her time with them. She never thought she'd consider herself of an athletic build, always just labeling herself "average". However, with all the work she'd been doing for the past years she realized she was starting to rock some new muscles. It was one day at the river, bathing in a secluded corner, that she felt the new strength in her shoulders. Her calves flexed worked-out tendons and her thighs hard as the same rocks she washed her clothes on. Her femininity was intact, no visible signs of musculature or wrestler-style abs, but she felt the strength course through her veins.

She tried to see her reflection on the clear water of the lake as dawn broke through the sky one lonely morning, a new, strange woman looking at her with a curious expression. There was a wisp of something, an air of a certain wisdom she couldn't place or explain. Short, choppy, brilliant brownish hair shined in the first light of the morning. Gleaming mudpie eyes smiled at her, golden skin shimmering in the soft rays which would turn violent in a few of hours.

Her steel grip kept the branches motionless in their exactly needed places while she threw Zakarias the string and he tightened them together. Next, she called for Chanchue to pass her the bucket of sticky mud. Brunho held it next to her from atop Sune's shoulders and she took as many great handfuls as she could. She spread and patted the ooey gooey consistency, plastering it as tight-packed as she could. It was still in its soft and runny mold though, even after the men added handfuls of dirt and even some Kapok bark in a failed attempt to thicken it. The brown goop slid down from the center, the top of the roof (which was what had originally caved in due to the rain) and dripped down onto her pants' leg, along with Jersua's head and even got a bit of his chest.

"Ay, Hermione, é faz-tudo tão mau! Olhe a desordem que você criou!" _Oi, Hermione, you're such a bad handywoman! Look at the mess you've made! _Zakarias complained from her side, his face plastered with mud, his boyish body browned with the mud he'd splattered all over himself. He attempted to shake his head and look serious, but he looked like a crook that'd been caught in the act, unable to stop laughing. She sighed and shook her head in mock anger at him, which only made him laugh louder.

She laughed along with him, but her mind was very far away, traveling at the speed of light back to those days most people cherish as their favorites, standing out of their lives because of their innocence. She looked over the top of the hut, not seeing anything just looking beyond it as her hands mechanically worked to mend the roof. She could almost hear Mr. Granger's call in the distance, asking her to pass him the wrench or the screwdriver. Where the river was, she could see herself three feet shorter, twenty shades paler, green dress swaying around her body as she ran around the house looking for daddy's tool kit.

"This is how you hammer in a nail, Mione… watch closely so that you don't hurt yourself when you try. See how I'm holding it?" he asked her, holding a long, large black nail in place between his thumb and index finger, placing it exactly perpendicular to the piece of wood he was holding. Her eyes were big and extremely focused, she looked eager and excited to try, imagine that—hammering in her first nail! She thought she was the coolest kid in town now that she could do what all the other big boys could. She'd show them they were wrong in calling her a weak girly girl. She'd beaten them in races, and she'd defeated them in arm wrestling, but they still made fun of her and tried to put her down. She even learned how to ride a bike before them (while falling and skinning her knees and _not_ shedding even _one_ tear, much less complaining about it)! Mr. Granger smiled and lightly started pounding on the nail.

"See when it can stand on its own and then hit the hammer on it harder, and keep doing that as hard as you need to until it's all the way into the wood." He smiled down at her and passed her the wooden plank as well as the nail and the hammer. When she tried to pick up the hammer (thinking it was light, since daddy made it look so easy to hold) her hand was pulled down by its weight and it fell on her big toe. Her eyes narrowed and her teeth bit down on her lower lip harshly. She winced in silence, Mr. Granger almost not realizing what happened. Well, that was just another trip to the emergency room, then; just a typical Friday night in the Las Vegas Memorial Hospital ER with Dr. Tonks Smith patching her up (like the good pretend-mom she was whenever Hermione tripped over herself or trampled someone over).

Hermione remembered clearly looking at her beautiful face and thinking, _Wow, I hope I look like her someday. _On late Sundays when Tonks (as she would call her affectionately in a sweet high-pitched voice) came to have tea parties with her, she'd brush the thick curly hair (even though it was too much for her then small hands) and braided it, admiring the fiery color of it. The little girl would say, "Did the angels give you this hair, Tonks? It's sooo pretty!" She'd smiled at Hermione and hugged her, telling her the only thing the angels gave her was a cute little porcelain doll to love. Hermione would blush and hold on to Tonks more, asking her, "Tonks, can you be my mommy? Daddy does a horrible job being both."

"Oi, Hermione? Oi? Hermione, está bem? Somos feitos aqui?"_ Hello, Hermione? Hello? Hermione, are you alright? Are we done here? _Lazzaro asked her almost worried. She looked a little out of it, but he understood it must be difficult to be so far away from the world for so long. She must miss the comforts they never knew about.

She smiled, nodding a bit, "Sim, é somente o calor recebe você louco às vezes. O barro cola bem e solidificar, então somos feitos. Agradece para os homens de ajuda!" _Yeah, it's just the heat gets you crazy sometimes, _she laughed,_ The mud is sticking well and solidifying, so we're done. Thanks for the help fellas!_

He sat tight in the helicopter. He was told not to move unless it was to follow an order or to evacuate in an emergency. He was told they would be landing soon, for which he thanked is lucky stars. A plane ride from New York to Miami was uncomfortable. A transfer from Miami to Rio de Janeiro was confusing and messy. A helicopter ride from Rio to this unknown, unnamed, unimportant plot of dark humid terrain was shaky and hot, sticky. He looked around in great distaste. He assumed they would have rented him a year's worth of Four Seasons hotel room service and crispy clean linen-smelling white sheets, WiFi and iPhone service included.

He'd just have to endure it, he thought internally shrugging.

They were making motions to land and the pilot was letting him know it was time to get ready to make his first exit impression on the natives.

On the ground, sounds of war were heard. Loud swishing noises that were deafening and had the villagers scurrying into their huts and cabins. Everyone dispersed, hiding behind trees and under baskets and around corners. She was the only one that stood her ground, recognizing the feared noise. She tried to look around for everyone, but they had all left, Hakik calling for her desperately behind the Kapok they usually lay under at dinnertime. She begged Hermione to go hide with her, but Hermione shook her head, trying to explain what the sound was. She couldn't be heard over the racket it had, but she tried to calm her friend down regardless. Turning around, she saw the large black and silver helicopter landing a short distance away, in the landing that they had cleared of any trees, where the daily chores and meals were prepared.

Looking below him to a very quaint and empty space, Severus was puzzled. _Aren't there supposed to be naked people sitting around a campfire chanting or something?_ Oh, the arrogant were so ignorant.

The helicopter landed, the wind whirling everywhere, Hermione's ankle-length skirt flew in all directions, her spiky hair whipping around her face in waves of chestnut impeding her to see what was happening. Her first thought was, _Shit, they're here. They finally made it to our little haven and they're going to tell us to leave so they can chop down our lives and make their own when they take it back to their industries._ The deforesters would never come in helicopters, though. Their arrival would be announced by the smell of burning bark and the bright red and orange flames that illuminated the night. The sparks would fly in all directions, and Hell would break loose in this little pot of Heaven.

Three large black suitcases came rolling down before he stepped out into the landing, taking a little jump down. The helicopter's wind blew his white low-hanging drawstring pants and matching flowing drawstring shirt. The messy black locks that were usually untamable became even more impossible to handle as they flew in all directions, to the back, to the sides, over his eyes, everywhere. Leaving his luggage behind, he waved goodbye to the pilot who gave him a thumbs up and signed something to him, pointing to a walkie-talkie type device. As he flew away and the villagers cowered behind whatever protection they could find, he spotted a single woman, tall and slender, standing in the evacuated landing.

He walked over to her in his usual businessman step, gracefully avoiding tripping on the roots of trees and the discarded materials left by the panicking people. Hermione stood, staring at the stranger with arms crossed over her black leather vest that served as a shirt even though it only covered half her torso and her toned flat stomach showed. The man looked Scandinavian, Irish, Canadian, British, or American from the way he stood and the few physical characteristics she could gather by the light of the moon and the burning palm oil sticks as candles. She noticed what seemed to be night-colored hair and maybe dark eyes, as he approached her. That ruled out Irish and Scandinavian. His walk, something predatory almost, made him most likely American or British, she concluded. What the hell would an American man with luggage want to do in the Brazilian Amazon?

As he walked closer to her, he could tell she wasn't a native. She had large eyes, as far as he could tell from the dimness of the natural light, and her lips were filled with an almost European look. She was tall and her features were soft yet poignant… she couldn't be from here with her clothes, either. She looked a little bothered, her eyebrow was arched and she looked like she was waiting for him to make a mistake or grow a third head or something.

He smiled at her, putting on his act as soon as they were ten, maybe eight, or six feet away from each other.

"Oi, sou Severus Snape. Estou aqui num objetivo de companhia para a corporação BUILD, e tentamos ver se podemos estudar os nativos e recebe ajuda construir o, escolas e hospitais. Fui designado a esta aldeia, mas parece ser desertado com exceção de você, senhorita. Asseguro-o, estou aqui não destruir algo nem mudar a vida de qualquer um, sou enviado aqui observar sem fazer barulho e informar meus resultados tentar e ajudar as suas pessoas. Não quero dizer nenhum dano, e eu gostaria de fazer amizade com você e seus companheiros, se você me deixaria. É um prazer encontrá-lo, Senhorita. ..?" He finished off with perfectly fluent, almost velvety Portuguese.

_Hello, I am Severus Snape_._ I'm here on a company objective for the corporation BUILD, and we're trying to see if we can study the natives and get aid to build the, schools and hospitals. I was assigned to this village, but it seems to be deserted except for you, miss. I assure you, I'm not here to destroy anything or to change the life of anyone, I'm sent here to observe quietly and report my findings to try and help your people._ _I mean no harm and I would like to befriend you and your fellows, if you would let me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss...? _He extended his hand to her to shake and she didn't take it.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" she spat at him in an English accent that had been dusted by a sexy drawling of Brazilian Portuguese.

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**A/N: Hope you liked this bit. Feisty Hermione arrives **_**now **_**and sexy Severus comes right in time. Please let me know what you think!**

**Love,**

**~R Vorenus~**


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